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Anitra's Dance	By : ceceng Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 3643 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
Disclaimers: Still Rowling�s � all of it, except Anitra,
Kate, Helge and the story as such

A/N: This is it, folks! the last chapter. I hope
you enjoy it. Sorry it took so long � I have been hvaing problems with my hand
lately.

A note on
Pygmalion: from Greek mythology. Pygmalion was the sculptor who shaped a
beautiful woman figure of his own � forgetting about live women in the process.
Bernard Shaw used the allegory in his play, Pygmalion,
which later became the basis of the musical, My Fair Lady.

Tying up ends

�The Dark
Lord has fallen.�

This merely
factual statement by Severus Snape had a greater effect than any emotionally loaded
tone of voice would ever have.

The battle
field around him had a bizarre and otherworldly quality about it. The wee kid,
Neville Longbottom, was stooping over the unconscious body of Bellatrix Black.
His eyes shone with an eerie glint, and the hand that held the wand was
trembling violently. His face was an open book on the internal battle he was experiencing
as he was weighing this unexpected but much desired power in his hand; complete
control over his deadliest enemy: the witch who drove his parents to insanity.

Behind him
Hermione was standing by a dead figure. Her eyes were confused and her lips
shaking with silent weeping. Beside her stood a carrot headed boy whose hand
was floating in the air with uncertainty, not knowing if his comfort was
wanted. Luna Lovegood was lying on the ground � here and there. Hagrid was
weeping over the dead body of the biggest of his Minotaurs and was consoled by
Madame Olympe while the rest of the beasties were on their way into the ocean
for some unfathomable reason. Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore were
panting near Snape, trying to assess the situation just like he was.

�The Death
Eaters are fleeing.�

�What�s
left of them,� Lupin agreed with Dumbledore huffingly. He was approaching them after
having made sure that Nymphadora Tonks was all right. Then he turned his head
sharply.

�That�s a
Hogwarts robe flat on the ground over there. Who is it?�

Lupin took
a step forward to find out, but was arrested by McGonagall�s spindly and
sinewous hand.

�That�s the
body of Draco Malfoy.�

�??!!..What?????�

Dumbledore
filled out the blanks. �He unexpectedly came out of nowhere when his father was
attacking Miss Granger. I heard him yell �no, father� before an avada kedavra curse hit him right in the
chest.�

Lupin
gasped so deeply Severus thought his chest might crack open.

�You
mean.... Lucius...?�

�Draco
caught the deadly beam intended for Miss Granger, wielded by his own father,�
Snape said grimly. Lupin and everybody else fell silent. They had no words to
cover the situation.

Already
several miles from there a haunted soul flew with a searing scream in his wake.
The howl of a father who had just killed his son. Around him surviving Death
Eaters were despondently flying to and fro without purpose, some of them
committing suicide by flying into the tall waves of the roaring ocean, others
just crashing on the hillside.

�... and
Harry?�

Lupin
almost didn�t dare ask.

Madeye,
joining the survivors, straightened. �Physically fine,� he concluded with an
eye on their hero, �but I daresay someone should lend him an ear.�

�Anitra?�
Snape asked in a low voice.

�Couldn�t
say for sure,� Madeye said in an almost chanting voice, �not sure a mind can
take what was revealed to her.�

�What was revealed to her? Who is she?�
McGonagall asked silently. Of all present only Madeye � whose eye missed
nothing � and Albus Dumbledore, who had read Voldemort�s mind, being this close
to him � knew of Anitra�s story. The latter sighed.

�My
friends. It is a day of victory, joy and sadness. We have won the great war
against Voldemort, the most potent and powerful black wizard in ages, and we
have rendered his Death Eaters impotent and weak. All this, however, at great
cost. We must now tend to our wounded, bury our dead and then explanations will
follow suit. Now, what can we use for portkey?�

*

Fifteen
minutes later, clutching one of Tonk�s high heeled boots, Harry and Anitra
found themselves in Dumbledore�s office where Harry had been presented to
explanations so many times prior to this. Anitra was swaying, but refused
Harry�s help when he reached out to support her. Actually he could have done
with some support himself, but, as it often is in such stressful situations,
seeing her weak, summoned an unknown fountain of extra surplus of strength
within him. He was strong for her.

Anitra sank
into the aggressive leather chair; the glance she gave it before she touched
it, made it meek and compliant. She half felt Harry sitting down on another
chair, shaking, fragile. She registered it, but her world was too full for her
to include his state of mind as well. She was still clouded by endless memories
washing over her like an unstoppable tide, and with it an impossible mass of
feelings she had no time or energy to sort out. It would be easier just to go
mad. However, that had never been her style. She shook her head gingerly: it
had never been her style as a mother when her child was dying from a kidney
disease, nor had it been her style as a young child when she found out she had
a fatal kidney disease....

Kate/Anitra
squeezed her eyes tight. She so
needed time....

Quite close
to her, Harry was fighting his own demons. He had killed Voldemort, saved the
life of the girl he loved, avenged the death of his parents, of Cedric, Sirius
and many others � not to mention saved the enire world as we know it. Done in a
jiffy, all in a day�s work. Yet he had sold his soul to do so. He was now a
murderer, he had used the most deadly curse of them all, illegal and feared �
the avada kedavra that had killed his
own parents. The curse he had sworn never to use. The curse his enemy had used.

Harry
squeezed his eyes tight.

Had he
become his enemy? A murderous beast? Was the philosophy of Good fighting and
doing away Evil a myth? Was it thus that only Evil could overcome Evil? Was he evil?

The thought
took away his breath.

And thus
both fighting themselves, this was how the Headmaster of Hogwarts found them.
He had done his utmost to follow them as quickly as possible, but there was so
much to attend to. The tall, ancient and wise wizard looked from one to the
other with anxious eyes, praying that they would not be lost to him or to the
world.

�Harry?....
Anitra?�

Harry only
just managed to look at him askance. Anitra did not react. Dumbledore�s anxiety
increased.

�Well,
Harry,� Dumbledore began, carefully levelling his voice.

�Will she
be all right?� were Harry�s first words, indicating Anitra with a nod. Shifting
attention to other people, postponing the moment when he had to face his own
situation. Dumbledore was not falling for it.

�Let�s
start with you, Harry.�

�Why?� It
was but a whisper.

�Because,
dear boy, as usual you�re the alpha and omega of this story... The reason why
Anitra was created, the reason why she had to suffer � and, I feel quite
confident, the reason why she will heal.�

Too tired
to rise and pace, Dumbledore remained sitting, staring intently at Harry over
his half-moon spectacles, watching every subtle change in the young man�s face.

�Do you
love her?�

�Desperately.�

It was said
with a certain finality. A finality that sounded more like doom than anything
the Headmaster had ever heard.

�That was
his plan, of course. Voldemort�s. He fancied himself Pygmalion and she was his
creation to do his bidding. She would enter Hogwarts as a spy, and he would see
everything through her and control her to lure you outside the safe grounds of
the school.�

Dumbledore
was talking about Anitra as if she wasn�t present. And in a sense, she wasn�t.

�He
couldn�t just shape her to be a willing slave. You would sense that
immediately. She would have to be an independent soul. But then, how to control
her? How to make her open and vulnerable for his eye? The answer, to him, was
obvious: erase her memory, create a sculpture with a tabula rasa mind.

It would,
therefore, have to be a muggle. He could not risk a witch�s mind that might
overthrow him. Voldemort felt safe using a mere muggle.

That was
his biggest mistake.�

Dumbledore
cleared his throat and shiftet his attention to Anitra, who was still looking
into nothingness. He wondered how much of this she registered.

�Tom Riddle
hated muggles; evidently, of course, because his own muggle half had failed to
understand him. And so, as it often goes, boundless hatred blinds people and
makes them greatly underestimate that which they hold in so ill regard.
Voldemort never understood what strength muggles are capable of. In particular,
this muggle.

The very
concept of time, opportunity and love forced him to put up impossible criteria
in his search for the perfect person. And yet it were those very criteria that
made his project fail from the start. In choosing Kate and Anitra, he made sure
the criteria were met; yet the criteria also shaped this incredible pair of
muggles, shaped their courage and strength to an extent that Voldemort never
managed to grasp or recognise.�

Dumbledore
paused to make sure Harry was with him. He wasn�t.

�Consider,�
he continued softly, �if Kate Hench had not been so strong, she would not have
survived losing her daughter. Yet if she had not lost her daughter, the
experience might not have honed her strength to the extent that she could
withstand Voldemort�s attempts to penetrate her mind. However, had she not
survived, Voldemort could not have used her. It is the paradox of cause and
effect � and time.�

Comprehension
dug its way through Harry�s hazed and aching mind, forced him to think
rationally and dulled the pain somewhat.

�By its
very nature, his plan was doomed to fail. Yet without those criteria, there
would have been no plan.�

�Exactly, Harry,�
Dumbledore nodded gently. �Even with her mind erased, Kate Anitra�s mind had
been so honed that it was impossible to manipulate. Her conscious mind did not
remember, but everything unconscious inside of her did. Thus the phobia towards
water...�

�I still
don�t understand that,� Harry interrupted, �time told Voldemort that Anitra
drowned, yet when he was there, nothing seemed to drown her, so he had to. So
he manipulated time?? Or fulfilled it?�

Albus
Dumbledore smiled. �It was like you conjuring up your Patronus, Harry � you knew you could, because you had seen yourself
do it � in the past.�

The
seemingly innocent comparison took away Harry�s breath and he felt a cold, cold
hand grab his heart and squeeze: another resemblance between him and Voldemort.

But Harry�s
attention was suddenly drawn to movement on his left side. Anitra was shifting
her weight in the chair. And talking.

�He killed
her... and me. I am both. But I don�t look like either of them.�

Infinite
relief was painted all over the old wrinkled face of Albus Dumbledore.

�You look
like both of ... you. Kate Hench was dark and Anitra Hench Kyrkeberg was
blonde.�

�Yes,� her
voice seemed to come from afar. �I... Kate was dark. Brown eyes, dark brown
hair. And I... Anitra was blonde, blonde hair, blue eyes � just like her
father.�

Harry
looked closely at her: The perfect mixture: blue and brown eyes had become
golden, and dark and blonde hair had become tawny. And her mind was likewise a
mixture of the two: the mature approach, the youthful recklessness, the tired
wisdom, the young curiosity.

Dumbledore
leaned forward, pinning her under his glance, willing her to understand what he
was about to relay to her.

�You... are
neither of those two. Voldemort took something from both of them and built you.
You have their memories, but they are just that: memories. You did not experience
them yourself. You are an individual with possibilities, opportunities and a
life of your own.�

Whatever
Dumbledore had expected from her it was not this deep-throated laugh that
reverbrated the old walls of Hogwarts School. Anitra had simply thrown her neck
back and was now filling the room with gallic laughter. Then she spoke,
huffing.

�My dear
man. You must realise it can never be as simple as that. I have no life. I was born possibly only months ago, I have no
parents, I have no family, I have no background and I have no past. I am merely
equipped with a complete set of memories that keep knocking on my door,
confusing me to the limit of sanity. So... very soon I might not have any
sanity either.�

The cold
cynical truth hit Dumbledore right in the face. He had tried to soothe the
horrid facts for her, but had forgotten that he was not only addressing a young
girl of 15 � but also a woman of 96.

It was
Harry who saved the moment. He leaned over, took her hand and said:

�Wrong. You
have family. You have me.�

She almost
didn�t breathe, but looked at him through eyes full of wonder.

�Harry,�
she said softly, �you don�t know what you are talking about.�

�No? I have
spent most of my life with a family that loathed me. I then found family that
would love me, but who died. Through all this, though, I have understood one
thing: love is important. Once you have found it, you must cling to it for your
dear life.�

His words opted
all kinds of images in her head: a drowning girl clinging to the water surface;
a despondent mother clinging to the watersurface where the hands had disappeared.
A sweet face covered in an oxygen mask, waking up without a kidney, waking up
with an extra kidney. Pain born on account of... love. Such a corny concept,
such a complicated thing. And yet so bloody important. That little thing that
had saved Harry�s life. That little thing that had saved hers.

�It will
not be easy,� she whispered.

�Nothing
ever is,� he whispered back.

No, it
would not be easy. She would have to �get a life� for one thing. And not just a
life: a sense of self, sort out the conflicting memories and feelings,
focussing on what was uniquely her. She would simply have to find herself. And
he would have to come to terms with his deed, acknowledge the dark side of
himself and embrace the light and mature as a man. A long journey.

*

The
following days stood in both their minds as a jumble. Stories were told, not
all of them very happy. It was a shock to everybody that one of the most hated
boys in the school had given his life to save what he so sneeringly had called
a mudblood. When Anitra heard that, she found herself stunned with muteness. Was
that because of something she had said? Surely not! And by his own father. Her
heart went unexpectedly out to Lucius Malfoy. He must be insane with grief by
now, she estimated. As a former parent, she couldn�t imagine anything worse
than being the cause of one�s own child�s death.

�Lucius
Malfoy isn�t what you think, Anitra,� Ron insisted, �he probably didn�t think
twice of scraping his son off of the sole of his shoe.�

Harry shook
his head, realising much more than his volatile friend, and Anitra smiled; here
was one who would take his sweet time understanding. Hermione had her work cut
out for her.

But first,
Miss Granger herself had to heal. It is bad enough to watch somebody die before
your very eyes � but when that somebody is your worst enemy who had thrown
himself to shield you, it makes it almost impossible to bear.

Before
Harry or Anitra could advise Ron to concentrate on his girlfriend, Ron stepped
right into it with both feet with the memorable remark:

�So, Anitra
� you�re really 96, huh?�

Harry lost
his jaw and Anitra�s chin whipped up.

�So, Ron �
you�re really 6, huh?� she retorted, very much in contact with her younger side
as her amber eyes shot golden arrows straight at Harry�s old friend. Ron went
uncharacteristacally taciturn, and Harry laughed for the first time since the
showdown with Voldemort. When they both left Ron, their hands also found each
other for the first time since that fatal day. Without a word, they went to sit
by the lake.

As the sun
was getting ready to set, it sent its dying light to dance one last desperate
dance on the soft wavy water surface, baptising the large silverplate with
gold. The sun�s gold, Harry noticed, made contact with the gold of Anitra�s
eyes � a peace offering, it seemed. And apparently she accepted it; he felt no
tremble from her as they sat close to the water edge.

�What now,
Anitra?� he asked her softly. She didn�t turn her face, but continued to let
him see her en profile, her soft and youthful features bathed in the dying
sunlight.

�You are
going to train as an Auror?�

�Yes... if
my NEWT levels will allow me.�

�You�ll
pass. With flying colours, I�m sure. Now that Voldie is gone, you don�t have him on your mind any more.�

�But...
something else has replaced that anxiety.�

�You are
not a murderer and you are certainly not another Voldie.�

Her words
hit him so hard that he fell numb for a while. She noticed it too.

�Breathe,�
she ordered.

How did she
see it so clearly? Was he really such an open book to her? Was it possible that
Voldie... Voldemort had managed to create for him that one girl in the world
that fully understood him and always would?

�How did
you know?� he whispered.

She
shrugged. �Life experience? Instinct? I�m not sure. I only know that for me it
is plain as the day. Hasn�t it always been like that? We all have two sides:
good and bad. Those who choose bad, go evil, and those who choose good, go �
well � good!�

�Funny,�
Harry murmured, �that�s what Professor Dumbledore said as well. It is about the
choices we make.�

�He�s
right.�

�Do you
suppose it takes a lifetime to realise that?�

�No.�

�How can
you b sur sure?�

�Because
you just realised it, and you�re not even 20 yet.�

Harry grinned
broadly. Anitra was right; Dumbledore was right. The sum of what we are is what
we experience up untiat vat very point, framed by our soul. He raised her hand
to his mouth and pressed his lips against her slim fingers.

�I love
you,� he said. He felt her smile rather than saw it.

�And I love
you. But we need to balance ourselves a bit more, sweetie.�

He nodded.
�I will go on and become an Auror... and you... you???�

She
suddenly smiled in a very relaxed manner.

�Haven�t
you heard? Dumbledore has offered me a position here as soon as I finish
school.�

�Finish
school?�

�Yes. I am
to attend to classes as much as possible to learn more about the magic world.
Once I am 18, I am to replace that horrid Mata Hairy and teach the students
some real facts about muggles,� she
beamed.

Harry
laughed. �That�s perfect! Incidentally � was that what Kate Hench was? A
teacher?�

�Kate was a
doctor! After specialising in cardiac diseases, she was employed as the head
doctor at a hospital for more than 30 years and finally got enough of the
ridiculous hierarchi and arrogance among her colleagues. She then took on a
position as a professor at the medical academy � so, yes � she became a teacher
in the end.�

Anitra had
begun talking about both her alter egos in third person. They had shaped her,
but they were no longer her.

�And what
did Anitra want to be?�

Anitra took
on a dreamy expression. �Oh, she wanted to be a doctor just like her old mum.
Of course, that was after she had to give up on being a pilot and a
professional tree-climber.� She laughed. A pearly laugh, both the girl�s at
happy and embarrassed memories and the mother�s at happy and loving memories.
Anitra would always be this duality, both deep and shallow.

�And
Anitra�s father?� Harry was more curious than jealous. This was the lover of
another person than his Anitra.

�Helge
Kyrkeberg. Norwegian.� Anitra�s expression was now gentle and a little sad.
�They met at a great performance of Grieg�s Peer Gynt. He played the violin,
she was among the audience, and their eyes met during Anitra�s Dance.�

She stopped
talking, emerged in both painful and happy memories.

�Thus their
daughter�s name,� Harry whispered. She smiled, �Yes, that was the very night
she was conceived.�

�And ....
Helche?� he asked, mispronouncing the name. Anitra smiled at his effort and
then wiped the smile rather suddenly of her face. �Oh, that scumbag �disapparated�
as suddenly as he had �apparated� in Kate�s life.�

Harry
laughed at the sudden shift of mood. Anitra leaned into his chest with a deep
sigh, and they snuggled against each other as the thick darkness became tighter
around them.

�Hr
Kyrkeberg lacked all the character traits that you have in abbundance, Harry.�

�Yeah?�
Harry said gently, caressing her cheek and nuzzling her hair.

�Yeah.�

What the
traits were was left unsaid, but Harry understood well enough.

As they
later went back to the dormitories, hand in hand, Anitra revealed one important
thing in their relationship for him.

�I think,
Harry, that there is only one thing in this life I will never be able to
forgive you.�

�What�s
that?� Harry asked anxiously. Now
what had he done?

�That you
killed that SOB before I could rip his non-existent heart out.�

Harry
stopped, looking at her with amazement.

�Well, he
did kill my daughter and my mother, for fuck�s sake,� she grinned at him,
momentarily slipping back into the role of being two persons and a muggle with
foul language at that.

Harry was
still grinning when they met up with Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common
room.

*

Weeks later
a shaking shape was huddling on top of a newly dug grave. The flowers on it
were already withered and dead like the boy six feet underneath the ground. The
tall figure was mumbling jibberish in a feverish way that anyone passing would
assume that the person had lost his mind. Some might have been able to
distinguish words like �hate them�, �they killed him�, �avenge you�, and yet,
they might not. It might have been their imagination. After all, the white
maned man spoke very incoherently.

This was a
man in deep, deep sorrow, buried with his son in infinite grief. It was also a
man wanted by his peers, accused of joining with the most horrible creature of
the century. However, that creature was dead, the threat removed and happier
times installed. It was a moment of joy, indeed. Except for this particular
man. One might ask oneself why a man like that would follow a hideous creature
of power and evil. One might even ask: How was such a creature created? Perhaps
this creature once loved, laughed and longed, like most of us do? And how did
that change? What happened? Could love really be replaced by insatiable hatred?

At the
sight of the white maned man crawling away from the grave, his handsome
features disfigured by neverending pain, one might very well believe that it
could be so.

*

The end?

That was
it! After all, I had to end this story at some point, or it would have gone on
forever.

So please
tell me: how did you like it? Good? Bad? What could be better? Another take?
Give me your suggestions. R&R very much appreciated. :-)

And
finally: thanks for staying with me. This was my first HP fanfic, and I have
had the best time doing it.
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Anitra's Dance